


elevator

by thefudge



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 19:13:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12754464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefudge/pseuds/thefudge
Summary: 1x10. The elevator scene, but with a much needed addition.





	elevator

**Author's Note:**

> ummm yeah, i got feelings.

The elevator doors clinch shut and something like a chapter closes on them. The air is thin now and every breath counts.  Frank removes the pistol from her head and it feels like a caress.

They both collapse against the wall in a dance that feels rehearsed. They've been here before, they have felt this kinship before.

They are removed from the laws and habits of society. Right now, they are survivors clawing for a way out. Karen reaches out blindly towards him, just to feel him there. Frank nods, assuring her of his presence.

They're methodical in their movements. She pulls the emergency stop and he hands her the gun.  He punches through the elevator shaft and she stares up into the cold unknown.  

"Frank..."

He stops and she stops and they take each other in. They assess the damage.

She squeezes his shoulder, begging him to be strong enough to do this, but also knowing without a doubt that he _is_.

It's not a _good_ day, hell it's been a pretty shitty past hour, but this minute right here is filled with a strange ebullience. 

He's bleeding from his ear and his body is a mess, inside and out. Karen is bleeding too, because of him, because of what he's dragged her into. But in this moment, he can't summon the guilt, the recriminations. 

This moment is so light, it almost slips by. 

It's absurd - it's almost like they _don't_ have feelings for each other. Because there's so much going on, because their hearts are so full, there's no room for actual sentiment. How to explain? They are empty, because the river's overflown. They've been drinking from each other for so long and now the dam's broken. Everything has spilled out and it's left them numb and speechless.

(When did he take his first sip of her? Was it the first time she visited him in prison and he felt actual _thirst_ for something undefinable?)

Karen is panting, a tremulous, invisible smile on her lips. _We did it_ , she wants to say, but words are so fragile. She stares at his wounds in disbelief, because they reflect her own and they almost _didn't_. 

Frank returns her stare, his eyes wide and tearful, the eyes of a child. And she realizes he's looking at her in wonder because she could have been a ghost by now. He wants to memorize her face like this, in the middle of life. 

She does the same. She doesn't know what will happen next, when she will see him again. So her eyes roam over his violent frame, storing every detail.

They are drinking from each other again, and maybe this time they will drown. 

He leans his forehead against hers, unable to keep his weight vertical, unable to stay away from her. Although he's tried really hard. 

She leans into him and everything is so soft, so unbroken. They share each breath.

This isn't a pretty dream that will turn into a nightmare. This is a nightmare slowly turning into yearning. 

"Go. Go on," she urges him, because if he stays a moment longer she'll be too weak.

Frank blinks, startled.  Go? _Without_ her? Yeah, that's what he's supposed to do. Climb through the shaft, get out, disappear. But shit - right now, the whole cavalry could show up and blow this elevator to pieces and he wouldn't be able to leave.

His bloody fingers cup her jaw and his thumb leaves an imprint on her lips. Karen shivers and licks her lips, licks his blood. 

Frank swallows hard because love isn't supposed to be like this. He pulls her desperately to him and she grips the front of his shirt as his mouth descends - hungry and shameful and undeserving - on her mouth. 

The shock of contact unmoors him. He has wanted this kiss for too long and it makes the memory of his wife sting. But Karen could have been _dead_.  He needs to inhale every part of her before she is taken from him. 

He knots his fingers into her hair, pulling her closer.  Karen grip his wounded face, opening her mouth, taking him in. 

Her back hits the elevator wall. One hand is still sunk in her hair and the other coats the buttons of her shirt in blood. He squeezes her waist and he imagines touching the skin underneath her shirt, but it's not about sex or lust, it's about feeling her pulse, her life, her continued existence.

(and if lust registers, it is the promise of an _after_ \- what she keeps telling him)

He buries his head in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, his lips ghosting over her erratic pulse. Karen runs her fingers over his scalp, digging at the base of his skull, making him groan. 

They break away because they don't have time. This moment has been stolen. This moment will haunt him. It will make him feel guilty. It will make him feel happy. He will curse himself for leaving. He will curse himself for wanting to stay.

"I...Karen...I..."

She smiles with tears in her eyes. "Me too." 

God, he doesn't deserve her. Doesn't deserve this sliver of light. He will fuck it up. He will get her killed. 

But he can't think about it right now. He thinks, _Me too._

Frank jumps and pulls himself through the elevator shaft with a grunt, because if nothing else comes after this, if it all goes to shit, he wants his last sight of her - his last memory - to be of her lips, kissed by him, and her voice telling him - telling him. He won't say what. He won't even think it. 

But it will carry him forward through the dark.

 

 

 


End file.
